


In Every Port

by RubyCaspar



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, First Time, Jack's going to London, Post Series, RST, look it's just an excuse for smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-13 00:53:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11173605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubyCaspar/pseuds/RubyCaspar
Summary: Jack is rather enjoying his time on board ship, though time seems to be slowing down the closer he gets to England. Perhaps a new passenger boarding at Cannes will liven things up...





	In Every Port

**Author's Note:**

> This got way, way longer than I intended, and also ended up a lot smuttier than intended as well. Ahem. Anyway... enjoy!

When he'd made the impulsive but inevitable decision to follow Phryne to England, Jack had been dreading the thought of over five weeks at sea. He had no problem with sea travel per se, but it was a long time to be stuck on the same ship, with only himself for company. 

 

Surprisingly, he found himself truly enjoying his time on board the  _ Grenada.  _ He found that he was able to relax a great deal more readily than he'd expected, devouring novels he'd brought with him and dozing in the afternoon. He'd always wanted to travel, and the ship stopped in a new port every few days, giving him the opportunity to explore (however briefly) exotic places he'd only ever read about and never thought he'd visit. The ship was a good size, large enough to find a deck chair when required or to wander around after lunch, small enough to develop a familiarity with both the ship and its passengers. His fellow passengers themselves were pleasant enough company, happy to keep mostly to themselves outside of mealtimes, not too taxing to make small talk with during. 

 

There were two notable exceptions to this rule of passengers keeping to themselves. The first was Mrs Gregor, an Englishwoman in her late twenties who had been widowed five years before. She was travelling with the elderly aunt of her deceased husband, and took any opportunity to seek out other companions. Since the aunt was about as warm as an iceberg Jack felt appropriately sorry for young Mrs Gregor and would have been happy to provide her with some alternative company, but she was  _ impossibly _ shy. It was an odd dichotomy - she went out of her way to sit with or walk with anyone but her aunt, but getting her to engage in conversation was next to impossible, and it made for very awkward and frustrating encounters. She reminded Jack a little of Mrs Collins when he'd first met her, and he had a feeling that she’d share some of that woman's hidden spark as well, if only she were given the opportunity to find her confidence. 

 

The other exception was Lawrence Harolds -  _ call me Larry, old chap _ . Larry was in his mid-thirties, an Englishman who had been working in Ballarat for six months and was on his way home. He, too, disliked spending too much time in his own company, and had decided the first night on board that he and Jack were going to be great friends. It felt a little like being back in school, when a child would just decide that their new best friend was whomever sat at the desk next to theirs, but Jack found he didn’t mind too much. Larry was cheerful without being grating, entertaining without being lairy, and didn’t care that Jack tended towards quietly observing, or that he spent so much time reading. He found endless amusement in the idea of being friends with a policeman, and kept trying to bait Jack with stories about his ‘law-breaking youth’, none of which were any worse than anything Jack himself had got up to in his teenage years. 

 

It amused Jack no end to watch Larry interact with Mrs Gregor. Larry commented often that he found the widow unbearably exasperating, and had taken to feigning sleep whenever she approached them on deck - for her part Mrs Gregor seemed perfectly happy to sit quietly nearby while Jack read a book, which meant that Larry had to continue to feign sleep for hours at a time. This inevitably led to him  _ actually _ falling asleep, at which point Jack would make some excuse to depart, leaving Larry to eventually wake up with Mrs Gregor in the next deckchair and her battle-axe of a companion nearby. 

 

Larry would roundly abuse Jack for his treachery at dinner, and then proceed to try the exact same tactic a couple of days later and, well, Jack had to find his entertainment somewhere. 

 

And so Jack found himself rather enjoying his voyage… well, at first. And despite… 

 

It was stupid, really, to miss Phryne as much as he did. After all, he was on his way to her - that was the whole  _ point _ . Every day brought him closer to England, closer to Southampton dock, closer to the moment that he would see her again. A telegram had been waiting for him in Sri Lanka, assuring him she’d be waiting for him when the ship docked, and he carried it with him everywhere, tucked into his pocket like a talisman against the seemingly endless days. 

 

The voyage really did seem endless. As much as he enjoyed the sea air, the freedom of staring at the horizon, the ability to sleep as late as he wanted, exploring foreign ports and the company of new friends, time seemed to be slowing down the closer they got to England. As the voyage reached the end of its fourth week, the days seemed to crawl by, and life on ship became more and more repetitive. He sent a telegram to Phryne at every port, and at first there was a reply waiting for him in every other dock, but those had dried up this past week. Jack knew she’d still be waiting for him in Southampton, and he certainly didn’t begrudge her doing whatever she was doing that prevented her sending him a telegram, but the silence left Jack restless. 

 

It didn’t help that they were sailing up the Suez Canal, cutting directly through the heart of Egypt. Every sight, every smell, seemed to spark Jack’s imagination, and he couldn’t get his mind off Phryne. The close shores of the canal seemed oppressive after so many weeks with a far horizon, and Jack retreated into his books. He read  _ Antony and Cleopatra  _ once a day for almost a week, and dreamt of it every night, dreamt of  _ her _ , like some kind of exquisite self-inflicted torture. 

 

They emerged into the Mediterranean, and the return of the horizon buoyed Jack just as much as the knowledge that they had finally reached Europe. There was still over a week to go but England seemed much closer on this side of the canal. The days at sea still dragged, though there were more stops now - Athens, Syracuse, Tunis, Naples - they were all fascinating, alluring and exciting in their own way, but all Jack could think was how much more fun they would be to explore with Phryne at his side. He had no doubt that she’d been to many of those places, and he imagined her dragging him to her favourite clubs, bars and shops, where she’d be on first-name terms with the proprietors and probably stumble them into adventures that would leave them in danger of missing the ship. 

 

He felt her absence acutely when they docked in Cannes. It was the first time he’d been in France since the war, and even though he’d never been to the south of the country it didn’t matter, there was an  _ awareness _ that seemed to seep up from the ground and leave his legs heavy. Cannes was easily the most fashionable place they’d visited so far, and Jack seemed to see Phryne on every corner - in the flash of a silk scarf, the glint of the sun on a pair of sunglasses, in the bright red lipstick adorning so many of the women he saw. Jack was back on the ship by lunchtime, and spent the rest of the afternoon in his cabin, escaping into his  _ Complete Shakespeare  _ until he felt the ship begin to pull away from the shore, and the bell rang to announce that dinner was an hour away. Jack set aside his book and got himself ready. 

 

The  _ Grenada  _ was not the most luxurious of liners, but it did take dinnertime seriously, and Jack had got more use out of his tuxedo in the past month than the previous six years he’d owned the thing. He had rather enjoyed the formality of the dinners at first, but now they were becoming another kind of repetitive. Still, he knew Larry had been out exploring Cannes long after he’d come back, and would no doubt bring back some entertaining stories, and the food was always best on port days, usually fresh fish and local sweets. 

 

And there were only six days to go until Southampton.

 

Jack made his way up to the bar, where diners waited to be seated for dinner. He accepted a glass of wine from a passing waiter, and had barely taken a sip before Larry appeared at his side. 

 

“There you are - Jack I will never forgive you for abandoning me today,” he said curtly. 

 

Jack gave him an unimpressed look. “Yes, how awful of me to leave you to enjoy the cafés of Cannes,” he said. 

 

“Yes, but guess who  _ else  _ was out  _ enjoying the cafés _ ? Hmm?” 

 

Jack hid his smile in his wine glass. “Did you fake sleep?”

 

“Shut up.” 

 

“I think at this point you’ve slept next to her so often you’re honour-bound to propose.” 

 

“I would hit you if I wasn’t worried about spilling my wine.” 

 

“Assaulting a police officer is a serious offence.” 

 

“You’re not a police officer here.” 

 

“I have friends in Interpol.” 

 

Larry’s glare was slightly ruined by his smile, so he just rolled his eyes and took a drink; Jack grinned and did the same, looking around the room at the crowd of now familiar faces. Back in Australia and Asia they had picked up new passengers in every port, but that had stopped as they’d gone through the canal and made their way across the Mediterranean. Ships to England were far more common from this part of the world, and there were faster and cheaper transports than theirs. 

 

Mrs Gregor and her companion were seated in a table in the corner, the former looking as sad and lovely as ever, the latter glowering imperiously at anyone who came near. Mr and Mrs Hope, a couple in their forties from the north of England, were propped up against the bar, deep in conversation with the elderly Mr Juneaux. There were dozens more that Jack could name, and he’d been looking at the same scene for over a month. He wished he could reclaim some of his earlier tranquility, but the closer he got to England the more impatient he became. He gulped down some more wine and turned to Larry, who was watching Mrs Gregor with an expression that Jack could read like a book. He opened his mouth to ask him about his afternoon, but at that moment he heard a woman laugh, and his heart leapt into his throat. 

 

_ It couldn’t be _ . 

 

His head whipped round to where the sound came from, and he soon found the source by the door - even with her back to him, he would know her anywhere. Phryne Fisher was across the room. 

 

Jack shook his head slightly, not quite daring to believe his eyes, but then she laughed again at whatever the First Mate was saying to her, and turned towards Jack to take a glass of wine from a waiter’s tray. Her eyes met his as she did so, too smoothly to be by chance, and she smirked in his direction before turning back to her conversation.

 

Jack’s entire body froze, and a rush of heat enveloped him from his head to his feet.  _ She was on the ship _ . 

 

He re-contextualised her lack of response to his recent telegrams; she hadn’t received them, because she hadn’t been in London. Instead, she was here, in Cannes,  _ on his ship _ . 

 

“Well she looks like she’ll be more fun than Mrs Gregor.” 

 

Jack blinked and looked guiltily towards Larry, but the man didn’t seem to have noticed anything odd about Jack’s reaction - he was staring appreciatively at Phryne himself, a look that Jack was familiar with, having seen it on the face of basically every man she’d ever come into contact with. 

 

Every nerve in Jack’s body was screaming at him to go over to her, but Jack held his ground; he wanted to see what her plan was. _ God _ , did he want to see what her plan was. He drained the rest of his wine and swapped his empty glass for a full one, his eyes raking over her. She was dressed in a deep blue silk gown, a shimmering golden shawl draped over her arms and a matching golden fascinator in her ebony hair. She seemed to glow in the lamplight, and the flash of her red lips whenever she tilted her head his way had Jack catching his breath. 

 

Larry snorted next to him. “Put your eyes back in Jack,” he said. Jack cleared his throat and turned towards him, taking a sip of wine to hide his embarrassment. Larry looked positively delighted to have caught Jack staring, presumably because he’d shown absolutely no interest in a single woman on board the ship or in any of the ports for the past month. Jack wanted to say something witty to put the man back in his place, but his mind was blank of anything but Phryne. 

 

He held out for a few seconds, but eventually his eyes were drawn irresistibly back to where she stood - or rather where she  _ had _ stood.  

 

It took a moment to spot her, weaving her way through the crowd so gracefully it was almost as though she were dancing. It had taken Jack a couple of days to get used to the movement of the ship:  _ of course  _ Phryne wouldn’t need any such adjustment period. She smiled and nodded happily as she passed their fellow passengers, but her eyes kept darting back to Jack’s, who once again found himself frozen in place. 

 

“She’s coming over,” Larry said, sounding surprised. Jack barely heard him. Phryne disappeared out of view for a moment, and then the crowd parted and she was in front of him. The air was suddenly full of her perfume, and Jack caught his breath. His heart was pounding, and his stomach clenched with the physical need to pull her into his arms. 

 

She wasn’t even looking at him. Instead, she gave Larry a bright smile, and walked over to him, extending her right hand.

 

“Good evening - Phryne Fisher, delighted to meet you,” she said. 

 

Larry gave her his most charming smile as he bent to kiss her hand. Jack just about resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

 

“Lawrence Harolds, I can assure you the pleasure is all mine,” he said, pressing her hand before letting it go.

 

Phryne gave him another smile before turning her gaze on Jack. She didn’t extend her hand, just raised her glass, looking absurdly smug. “Good evening, Inspector Robinson.”

 

_ So that’s how she was going to play it.  _ Jack pursed his lips to stop himself from grinning, and raised his own glass to her. “Miss Fisher,” he returned as dismissively as he could manage.

 

Larry stared at Jack. “You know each other?”

 

Phryne tilted her head to Larry and smiled again. “Oh yes - the Inspector and I have crossed paths in Melbourne,” she said casually. She smirked at Jack over the rim of her glass. 

 

“Miss Fisher is a private detective,” Jack explained to Larry, though he didn’t take his eyes off Phryne. “She’s assisted in several of my cases.”

 

Phryne’s eyes narrowed at his use of the word ‘assisted’, and it was Jack’s turn to smirk.

 

“A private detective?” Said Larry. “How thrilling.”

 

“It has been at times,” she said.  Phryne’s eyes flicked down Jack’s body and back up to his face. She took a sip of wine and then her tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip.

 

Jack cleared his throat. “I thought you were in London, Miss Fisher,” he said pointedly. 

 

“I was, but one does get tired of the relentless October rain, and I found the social scene rather… limited,” she said, her eyes dancing with mischief.  “So I decided a quick flight to the continent was just what I  _ needed _ .”

 

Her eyes raked over his body again. Jack gulped down more wine. 

 

“You fly, Miss Fisher?” Larry asked. 

 

“I do,” said Phryne, finally turning to face Larry again. “It’s one of my favourite pastimes. I recently flew from Melbourne to London.”

 

“My word,” said Larry, looking suitably impressed. “But you’ve elected to sail home?”

 

Phryne shrugged. “Well,” she said, cutting her eyes sideways to Jack, “it gets so  _ lonely _ up in the air.” 

 

Jack felt his stomach clench again, and he gripped his wineglass so hard he was lucky it didn’t shatter. Phryne held his gaze, her eyes dark and her eyebrow raised in challenge. At that moment the gong sounded to announce the start of dinner, and the doors to the dining room were thrown open. 

 

“Would you care to join us, Miss Fisher?” Asked Larry. 

 

Phryne gave him a dazzling smile. “Oh I would have loved to, but I’m dining at the Captain’s table this evening,” she said. Her eyes darted back to Jack. “But luckily for us, there are many other evenings between here and London.” She smiled again, and raised her glass to Larry. “Mr Harolds.” She held Jack’s gaze for a long moment and gave him a slow smirk. “Inspector.”

 

Jack nodded. “Miss Fisher.”

 

And with a swish of blue and gold she was gone, disappearing quickly into the crowd moving towards the doors, leaving only a trace of French perfume in the air.

 

“Crossed paths my arse,” said Larry the moment she was gone. He was looking at Jack like he’d never seen him before. “She looked like she wanted to eat you alive,” he said accusingly, shaking his head. “ _ Lucky bastard _ .” 

 

Jack gave Larry what he hoped was a dignified glare, and, trying desperately not think of what the heated looks Phryne had indeed been giving him meant for his immediate future, joined the crowd moving towards the dining room. Larry followed close behind him, lowering his voice but not nearly enough in Jack’s opinion. “She’s why you’re going to London, isn’t she?” Larry said. The crowd stopped, and Jack tried the glare again - it didn’t work in the slightest. 

 

“ _ Just fancied a break from the job _ ,” Larry added bitterly, quoting what Jack had said whenever he’d been asked about his trip to England. “Jack you are so full of -”

 

A waiter appeared. “This way, sirs, if you please.” 

 

Jack shot Larry a warning look which earned him eye roll, and the two of them followed the waiter to a table in the middle of the room. Jack chose a seat facing the Captain’s table, and when Larry sat down opposite him he gave Jack a horribly knowing look. Jack ignored him and turned his attention to the Captain, who had just walked into the room with Phryne on his arm. Heads were turning all around the room; not only was she the first new passenger for days, she was also by far the most effortlessly chic. Jack smiled to himself - she had to be loving this. 

 

Phryne was given the seat of honour at the Captain’s right hand, facing the room from atop the slight dais the top table stood upon, and as soon as she was seated her eyes were scanning the room - they met Jack’s and stopped, and Jack found his breath catching again. He still couldn’t quite believe that she was here, that she'd flown that ridiculous plane of hers down to the south of France just so she could surprise him. 

 

Alright, perhaps he  _ could _ believe it after all. 

 

Still, it felt too surreal to be real. In Jack’s experience, life wasn't this… giving. He'd already been on the high of knowing she wanted him enough to ask him to come after her, of knowing that she'd be waiting for him when he stepped off the boat. He'd already been bracing himself for what their reunion would be, torturing himself with countless fantasies of endless scenarios, imagining what it would be like to hold her again, to kiss her again, to not stop. 

 

And now… here she was. And Larry was right, there  _ had _ been serious intent in her eyes, and it had been all Jack could do to not pull her to him the moment she'd looked at him. He wasn't going to be able to resist her much longer. 

 

He had no intention of trying. 

 

The smirk Phryne gave him across the room implied that she knew precisely what he was thinking, but Jack refused to be flustered. He raised an eyebrow at her and then, very deliberately, poked out his tongue to wet his lips. 

 

He had the immense satisfaction of seeing Phryne Fisher swallow hard and look away, and he smiled smugly. A moment later she looked back at him with narrowed eyes, and Jack just made sure she saw his smile before taking a sip of his wine. 

 

A waiter appeared next to Phryne at that moment, claiming her attention, and Jack looked away to find Larry staring at him with an expression of warring horror and amusement. He shook his head in disbelief when Jack caught his eye, and Jack affected an air of unconcern and helped himself to a bread roll. He'd put up with enough of Larry’s whining about Mrs Gregor to feel that he was entitled to pay the man back. 

 

Conversation started around him, but he paid it no mind. He was right about the evening’s fare - the food was fresh and delicious, but Jack barely noticed what was put in front of him. Like a moth to a flame his eyes kept straying back to Phryne, and he almost always found her eyes already on him. 

 

It was already torture, seeing her but not being near her, and then she started…  _ toying  _ with him. 

 

She began by resting her elbow on the table and playing with the ends of her hair as she talked to the Captain. Jack was flooded by the memory of how silky soft her hair had felt between his fingers when he'd kissed her on that airfield, and his hands itched with impatience to feel it again. 

 

Next, the side of her hand came to rest against her neck, and she trailed her fingers down along her collarbone and back up. Jack had to suppress a groan at the sight - he'd had dreams about nothing but her neck, and his mind was filled with the image of his lips following the same path along her alabaster skin, and he had to wrench his eyes away from her. After a couple of deep breaths he risked another look, and found that she had lowered her hand to circle the rim of her wineglass, and that she was looking straight at him with a knowing smile. He shook his head slightly at her, and her smile became a smirk. 

 

Jack took a gulp of wine, tearing his gaze away from her again. He needed to get a hold of himself - he was in  _ public _ for heaven’s sake, and let's just say the tablecloth was the only thing protecting his modesty. 

 

He made an effort to join the conversation for a few minutes - mostly inane chatter about the sights of Cannes - but a tingling awareness that he was being watched had him raising his eyes to her again, a true glutton for punishment. Her eyes darted away from him the moment he looked at her, and her hand moved to her neck again. This time her fingers took hold of the long silver chain she wore around her neck, running the links through her fingers, all the way down to where the necklace disappeared down the vee at the front of her dress. Jack’s eyes widened as her hand approached, but she simply tugged the necklace up, freeing it from the dress, and began to toy with the charm on the end of the chain. 

 

Jack let out the breath he'd been holding, only for it to catch in his throat when he recognised the charm as the swallow pin he had given her. Phryne looked over at him again, and gave him a soft smile. Jack was flooded with affection for her, quite separate from the more carnal feelings he'd been experiencing since he’d first caught sight of her in the bar, and he wanted nothing more than to cross the distance between them and just  _ hold  _ her. 

 

“Mr Robinson?” 

 

Jack startled slightly and looked round at Mrs Lisel, who was sitting next to Larry, and who was looking at him expectantly. 

 

Larry looked like he was about to start laughing. 

 

Jack cleared his throat. “I'm sorry, Mrs Lisel, what was that?” 

 

The older woman gave him a pitying look. “Are you unwell dear? You don't seem yourself this evening.” 

 

“I think Jack was just a little overcome by the beauty of Cannes,” said Larry lightly. 

 

Jack kicked him under the table. Larry yelped and then covered the sound with a cough. 

 

“Did you hear anything else from your daughter, Mrs Lisel?” Jack asked. “How is Sara?” 

 

Mrs Lisel launched into her favourite subject - her young granddaughter - and seemed to forget Jack and Larry’s odd behaviour. Jack risked a glance at his friend - Larry was wearing the world’s biggest smirk, and Jack’s glare just made it worse. 

 

The rest of the meal passed in relative peace. Jack's eyes still strayed frequently to Phryne but aside from heated looks she did nothing designed to unsettle him. 

 

The passengers dispersed after dinner: to their rooms, to walk along the deck, or to the bar or lounge areas. As had become their habit, Jack and Larry found seats at the bar and ordered drinks. Jack had hesitated for a moment as dinner had finished, but Phryne had taken the Captain’s proffered arm and given Jack the tiniest of winks, and he’d known that she was going to be busy for a little while yet. It turned out that being busy meant drinks with the Captain and First Mate in the bar, as the three of them entered a few minutes after Jack and Larry had gotten settled. Jack smiled into his whisky - in the month the ship had been at sea, he’d seen neither officer in the bar after dinner, but clearly it was hard to resist the charms of Phryne Fisher. 

 

Jack knew exactly how the poor bastards felt.

 

Phryne draped herself in an armchair facing Jack, flashing her knee before smoothing her skirt down demurely. Jack could see from the look she gave him that the move had been entirely deliberate, and he gave her a warning look in return. She responded with a pleased smirk before turning her attention to what the captain was saying. 

 

“So.”

 

Jack looked back at Larry, who was watching him with narrowed eyes and a smirk of his own. 

 

Jack put on his best blank expression. “So.” 

 

Larry huffed. “So she’s why you’re going to London?” 

 

Jack glanced at Phryne, who was laughing with the First Mate, and then shrugged. “She may have factored into the decision,” he said. 

 

Larry snorted into his martini. “All these secrets, Jack, it’s like I don’t even know you,” he said, sounding more impressed than upset. 

 

Jack had a lot he could say to Larry on the subject of keeping secrets, but had long since decided to keep any such thoughts to himself. Instead he just shrugged again and had a sip of whisky. It wasn’t as good as the stuff Phryne served in her parlour, but it tasted better tonight than it had for the rest of the voyage. 

 

A couple of other passengers joined them, which saved Jack from further questioning, and left him free to watch Phryne. She really was dazzling - it wasn’t that he’d forgotten, but after nearly two months of separation his memory just couldn’t do justice to how bewitching she was to just watch. She sat as though she were a queen on a throne, completely at her ease, and it drew you into her orbit. There was a fluid grace to all of her movements which held the attention of everyone who saw it. Her eyes shone as she spoke, her red lips curving into a sensual smile every few seconds. He couldn’t hear what she was saying, but her companions were enraptured, and Jack well knew that her mind was just as beguiling as the rest of her. 

 

All of a sudden, Jack wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to hold on for. He wanted her. He  _ needed  _ her. He knew she was having fun teasing him, but he was done playing games. He’d sailed halfway round the world to see her: she’d flown across a continent to see  _ him _ . They knew where they stood, they knew what happened next, and Jack was ready for  _ next _ to be  _ now _ . 

 

Phryne had been sneaking glances at Jack since she’d sat down, sending smirks his way whenever she caught his eye, but when she looked at him now she didn’t smirk - instead she froze for a moment before looking away quickly. When she looked back again a moment later her expression was heated, and Jack’s heart started to pound in his chest. She bit her lip, and Jack swallowed. 

 

A waiter appeared next to the Captain with a tray, and Phryne shook her head at whatever it was he said. The Captain and First Mate both gave signs of protesting to her, but she shook her head again, laughing, and stood up. The men stood up too, and Jack noticed that the coupe glass on the table in front of Phryne was empty. 

 

Phryne offered her hand to both of the officers, and then made her way past them, heading towards the door. Her eyes met Jack’s again as she passed him, and she raised an eyebrow at him. Jack gave her a small nod and knocked back the rest of his whisky. 

 

“Fancy another, Jack?” 

 

Jack startled slightly - he’d completely forgotten that Larry was still there. The others who had joined them were gone, and Jack hadn’t even noticed them leave. Larry was still smirking.

 

Jack put his glass down on the bar and stood up. “Er, no,” he said. “I think I’ll just turn in.”

 

Larry raised an eyebrow. “Uh huh,” he said dryly.

 

Jack refused to take the bait. “Good night,” he said simply.

 

“Better for some of us than others I should think,” Larry quipped. 

 

Jack ignored him. Phryne had left the bar by now, and Jack had no idea where she would be headed - he didn’t have time to play games with Larry Harolds. He strode across the bar and through the doors, into the corridor beyond. Phryne was halfway down the corridor to his right, and she paused at the corner to look over her shoulder and make sure he was following her. 

 

Like he had a choice. 

 

When he reached the corner it was to the sight of the tail end of a gold silk wrap trailing out of sight down the short flight of stairs that led to the first class corridor. 

 

Another passenger, Mr Wallis, was at the far end of the corridor, by the door leading to the upper deck. He nodded to Jack, and Jack nodded back before continuing on as if he didn't want to turn onto the corridor. There was nothing that way except the stairs to the first class cabins and that door to the deck, and if Jack went down it when Wallis was still there the man would expect him to be heading outside, unless Jack could think of a good excuse for why he would be heading down to the first class corridor this time of the evening…  which he couldn't. 

 

Luckily, the corridor he was in was still deserted and there was no one to witness him standing impatiently by the corner, hidden from Wallis’ sight and listening to hear what the man was doing. Jack heard the deck door open and close, and nothing else, so he risked a peek round the corner and found the man had gone outside. 

 

Jack strode towards the staircase, but just as he reached the top of it Mr Juneaux walked in from the deck. Jack froze, bracing himself to be spotted, but there was a call from outside, and Mr Juneaux turned round to look back outside - Jack threw himself forward and down the flight of steps before the old man could look around again. In his rush to get down the stairs, Jack hadn't given any thought to whether the first class corridor would be empty - it was. 

 

Completely empty. 

 

Jack looked both ways, listening for footsteps or for a voice, for  _ anything  _ that would tell him which way Phryne had gone. Her room had to be nearby - he hadn't been delayed for  _ that  _ long - and he was just wondering whether he dared to call her name when he caught a hint of familiar French perfume in the air. 

 

He’d held himself together in the bar but here in the deserted corridor, following Phryne Fisher to her room, with the memory of her eyes raking over his body, with the full knowledge of what was about to happen between them, the smell of her perfume made him sway on the spot. His stomach bottomed out and he felt light-headed with the sudden rush of blood away from his head. He shook his head ruefully and took a deep breath to steady himself.

 

The smell was stronger to his left, so that’s the way he went. The doors were heavy dark wood, identical, and all tight shut, spaced much further apart than the ones on Jack’s corridor. After a few yards he caught sight of a flash of silver up ahead, and his pace quickened. As he drew near, he saw what it was, and he grinned. 

 

The swallow pin on the silver chain was hanging from a door handle. Jack stopped in front of the door and very carefully lifted the chain. He brushed his thumb over the swallow, took a moment to try to steady his breathing, and then tried the door handle. The door opened easily, and Jack stepped inside. 

 

The room was dim, lit only by a single lamp on the wall and the moon spilling through the small window. It was a small parlour of sorts, with a chaise, a desk and chair, and a sideboard. An open door led further into the suite, and more lamplight spilled through the doorframe. Jack took it all in with a single glance before his eyes came to rest on Phryne, who was in the middle of the room facing him. Her shawl had been discarded on the floor, and the pale skin of her bare shoulders was shining in the silver moonlight from behind her, while the lamplight cast her face into shadow but glinted off her eyes. 

 

Jack reached out behind him and pushed the door closed with a soft click. 

 

There was a moment of silence as they just looked at each other. Jack couldn't see much of Phryne’s face but he could feel her eyes on him as though she were already touching him, and he shivered. 

 

He held up the hand holding the chain. “Forget something, Miss Fisher?” He said. 

 

Phryne took a step closer. “Not for a minute,” she said simply.

 

She was moving forward before she finished speaking, and Jack barely had time to take a step himself before her mouth was on his. Jack wrapped his arms around her back and hauled her up against him, groaning into the kiss. It was too desperate to have any kind of finesse, but Jack’s entire body felt like it was lighting up under her touch. Phryne's hands were tangled in his hair, just this side of painful, and when his hand moved lower to clasp her backside he felt her moan against his lips. 

 

Jack’s other hand was still fisted around her necklace - he thrust it impatiently into his jacket pocket and as soon as his hand was free he dropped it to her waist and used the momentum of the movement to spin the two of them round so he could press her up against the door. 

 

Phryne gasped against his mouth and Jack grinned at the idea that he'd actually managed to surprise  _ her _ for once. Her hand slid down from his hair to cup his cheek, and she pulled back from the kiss as she ran her thumb over his lips, tracing the smile. 

 

The desperation of just a moment before seemed to have evaporated, replaced instead by an intense, deep longing that seemed to percuss throughout Jack's body to the beat of his heart. He leaned his forehead against hers, staring into her eyes as she trailed the back of her fingers along his jawline. 

 

“Jack,” she said softly. 

 

Jack waited for her to say something else, but instead she just removed her other hand from him - a moment later he heard another click as she turned the key in the door. 

 

Jack let out a long breath. “Phryne…”

 

Phryne pressed her hands flat on his shoulders and ran them down the front of his chest. “I couldn't wait another week,” she said. 

 

Jack grinned. “Thank  _ god _ ,” he said, and he caught a glimpse of Phryne’s bright smile as he leaned in to kiss her again. This kiss was slower, deeper than the previous one, and Jack felt it down to the soles of his feet. He pressed his body against hers, his hands sliding down her sides to settle on her hips. 

 

Phryne’s hands didn’t stop moving - across his shoulders, over his back, back up to his hair, along his jaw, and then finally to his collar to undo his bow tie. As soon as it was loose her nimble fingers made short work of the top two buttons of his dress shirt, and then her hand was under the fabric, tracing her fingernails along his collarbone. 

 

Jack broke the kiss, breathing heavily against her lips for a moment, before lowering his head to taste the skin just below her earlobe. Phryne rolled her head back to expose her throat, and Jack trailed his mouth down her neck, just as he’d been dreaming about since… well, as long as he’d known her, if he was honest. 

 

He was lost in the taste of her, the smell, the soft sounds she was making, the heat of her body - it took him a moment to realise that she was pushing against his chest, and when he realised and looked up she just gave him a wicked smirk and worked to push his jacket back off his shoulders. He grinned and stepped back from her to shrug off the jacket, and noted with surprise that she’d managed to unbutton his waistcoat as well, as well as a significant number of shirt buttons. She kissed his jaw as she peeled the waistcoat off of him, and then grabbed hold of his open shirt front in both hands and started to back away across the room, tugging him after her. 

 

Jack caught up to her in a few stumbling steps and captured her mouth again, smoothing his hands over her back and down to the back of her thighs, swallowing her sigh. He hauled her up against him, and she let go of his shirt to wrap her arms around his neck. He lifted her and she wrapped her legs around his waist, gasping out his name before attacking his mouth with a new desperation. Jack took another few blind steps, and then the back of his arm hit something solid, and he had Phryne backed against it again before he’d registered that it was the door they’d been aiming for. 

 

The need in Jack was reaching a crescendo, and there were too many clothes still in the way. He pinned Phryne to the open door with his hips and torso, freeing his hands to slide up her thighs, still wrapped tightly around his waist. He groaned when his hands felt skin at the top of her stockings, and he broke their kiss, grabbing hold of her dress and tugging it up impatiently. Phryne let go of his shoulders to help, laughing as it got caught around her shoulders, and it had barely touched the floor before Jack was running his hand up her side underneath her ivory camisole. He palmed her breast and Phryne's head fell back against the door, and Jack pressed an open mouthed kiss to her throat, biting down softly as he squeezed with his hand. 

 

Phryne's broken moan would haunt Jack’s dreams for the rest of his life, he was sure of it. She wrapped an arm around the back of his head to keep him where he was, and then rolled her hips forward. She'd slid down his body a little when they'd taken off her dress, and the movement brought the heat of her core in direct contact with his erection, and this time the two of them moaned together. 

 

“Bed, Jack,” Phryne gasped in his ear. Jack could only nod. He wrapped his arms around her back and staggered further into the room. The bed was, luckily, only a few yards away, and a moment later his leg knocked against the side of the mattress. Jack dropped Phryne down onto the bed, then bent over her, kissing her hard. Phryne ran her hands over his chest, scraping her nails over his skin, and Jack pulled away to paw at her camisole, needing to feel her skin. Phryne sat up to pull it over her head and threw it away, and Jack forgot everything but the sight of her bare chest. He pushed her back onto the bed and lowered his head to her breast, kissing the curve of the underside of one before drawing one of her nipples into his mouth, flicking the nub with his tongue. Phryne’s back arched, pushing her flesh up into his mouth, and Jack rolled his hips against the bed, desperately seeking friction as the sound of Phryne’s gasps and moans of his name set his blood on fire. 

 

Phryne dug her nails into the back of Jack’s shoulders. “Jack,” she gasped. “Jack, I want you inside me-”

 

Jack groaned, rolling his hips again. The taste of her skin and the feel of her body gasping for breath was heavenly, and only the thought of finally joining with her could get him to pull back. He pushed himself up to standing again, and Phryne fisted her hands in his shirt and pulled herself up to sitting as he pulled back. Her hands went straight for his belt, making Jack groan again as her hands brushed against him, and Jack bent his head to kiss her again, unable to help himself. His hands went to her hips, pushing down past the silk of her knickers to dig his fingers into the flesh of her behind. Phryne gasped against his lips, and Jack smirked briefly before letting out a strangled groan at the feel of her hand reaching inside his opened trousers to cup him through his shorts. He dropped his head onto Phryne’s shoulder as she pushed his trousers and shorts down and grasp him firmly. 

 

“Oh god…” 

 

Phryne huffed out a small laugh against his shoulder, and Jack pulled back to look at her. “Do you have - do we need -”

 

Phryne shook her head. “Taken care of,” she said. “Now, Jack…”

 

Jack pushed down at her knickers - Phryne took over, scooting back to push them down her legs and off, and then reached out for Jack, who was already lowering himself over her. His hand slid up her inner thigh to her centre, and she was wet and her back arched again at his touch. 

 

“ _ Now _ , Jack, now!”

 

Jack took hold of himself with his hand, his wet hand sliding easily over his rock hard flesh, and, his eyes fixed on Phryne’s, guided himself into her. 

 

Phryne’s eyes slid closed and her head rolled back. Jack pressed his face into the side of her neck, breathing deeply, and held himself still for a long moment. She felt like everything he’d ever dreamed she would, and he needed to ground himself, needed to remind himself that this was really happening. 

 

And then he needed to find some control from somewhere, otherwise this was going to be over far too quickly. 

 

Phryne allowed the stillness for a few seconds, then shifted, wrapping her legs around his hips and pulling him even deeper into her. Jack moaned, and lifted his head to kiss her. Phryne thrust her tongue into his mouth, and the taste of her desperation was enough to get Jack moving. He pushed himself up onto his hands either side of her, pulled back from her and then thrust forward. They both gasped, swallowing the sound each other made, and again, and again. 

 

Phryne rolled her hips against him, her legs guiding him, and Jack matched the timing of her hips with his thrusts. He straightened his arms, pulling away from Phryne’s mouth and giving himself the leverage to thrust harder into her. Phryne moaned his name, and Jack’s hips stuttered. He was overwhelmed - by the feel of her, the sight of her, the sound of her… it was too much, and not enough. 

 

He centred his weight back on his feet next to the bed, and grasped Phryne’s hips in his hands to pull her up against him as their rhythm sped up. Phryne raised herself on one hand, reaching out the other to clutch at his shoulder. The new angle made both of them gasp and moan with each movement. Jack lifted one hand to palm Phryne’s breast, his fingers gliding over her damp skin. She arched into his touch, and cried out his name as he pinched her nipple between his thumb and finger. 

 

Jack knew he couldn’t last much longer - the sight of Phryne was causing him to unravel. He slid his hand down her stomach to where they were joined, his fingers brushing through her damp curls to where he could feel her stretching round him. She gasped and pushed against his hand, and he pressed his thumb against the bud of her clitoris, drawing a tiny circle once, twice, three times… on the fourth, she broke - her head fell back and her back arched, and her hips stuttered against his, and she cried out as she came. Her inner walls contracted around him, tearing his own release from him - Jack gasped out her name, barely managing to catch himself on his hands as he jerked forward, his balance gone as his entire body shuddered in ecstasy. 

 

When he became aware of himself again, he was leaning heavily on his forearms, his head resting on Phryne’s shoulder. She was breathing heavily, flat on her back beneath him. Jack took a few deep breaths and then put his weight onto his hands, levering himself up. His knees buckled beneath him and found himself on his knees next to the bed, his hands holding onto Phryne’s thighs. He noticed for the first time that she was still wearing her garter belt and silk stockings. 

 

Jack started to laugh. 

 

Phryne propped herself up on her elbows, her chest heaving, looking at him in alarm. 

 

“Jack?”

 

He shook his head, struggling to contain his laughter. “I didn’t even take off my shoes,” he managed to say. 

 

Or his socks, shirt, trousers or shorts if it came to it, but it was the thought of his shoes that really had him laughing. 

 

Phryne started to laugh as well, quieter and gentler than her usual laugh, and she sat up properly. She leaned forward, curling her body over Jack's shoulders, and ran her hands through his hair as he continued to chuckle against her thigh. 

 

She tugged slightly on his hair, making him look up at her, and she bent down to kiss him softly. “Well,” she said as she pulled away, “get them off and come to bed.”

 

Jack grinned and got shakily to his feet. He made quick work of his cufflinks, pulling off his shirt and kicking off his shoes. He peeled off his socks as he took off his trousers and shorts, and turned back to the bed to find that Phryne had gotten rid of her garter and stockings, and was carefully removing her fascinator from her dishevelled hair. Her lipstick was gone, and Jack wondered idly how much of it was on him. 

 

She'd pulled back the covers on the bed and as Jack watched she stretched out on the far side of the bed, on her side facing him. Jack recognised the pose from the painting, and his mouth went dry at the sight of her, despite the fact that he was still catching his breath from their coupling. He wondered if he would ever just find the sight of her like this familiar and blasé. 

 

Somehow he doubted it. 

 

He slid onto the bed next to her, and leant forward to kiss her softly. 

 

“You are so beautiful,” he said

 

Phryne smiled. “So are you.”

 

He kissed her again before pulling away and lying down on his back next to her. Phryne tucked herself into his side with her head pillowed on his shoulder, and Jack pulled her close with his arm around her shoulders. 

 

“Well, considering what just happened I'm glad you met me here,” Jack said. “It would have been a shame to be arrested  for public indecency just after arriving.”

 

Phryne lifted her head, twisting to look up at him. “Don't underestimate yourself, Jack, you made it all the way through dinner and drinks before ravishing me,” she said. Then she smirked. “Not to mention the last year and a half.”

 

Jack smirked back. “You're right, I must have remarkable self-control.” 

 

“Remarkable is one word for it, yes,” said Phryne, pouting exaggeratedly. Jack grinned. 

 

“So…” Phryne said, flattening her hand against his chest and pushing back from him to look at him properly. Jack looked at her expectantly, and she grinned. “Tell me all the ship gossip.”

 

Jack raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think I pay attention to gossip?” He said archly. Phryne pursed her lips, and Jack only lasted a few seconds before grinning. He rolled over so he was on his side facing her and propped his head up on his hand. She mirrored him, and Jack had to smile at how excited she seemed. 

 

“The First Mate hates the Captain.”

 

Phryne rolled her eyes. “Well I could have told you that, and I've only been on board for five minutes,” she said. 

 

“But did you know that the Captain tried to have the First Mate fired six months ago?” Jack said. Phryne raised her eyebrows at him, and he nodded. “Complained about his drinking but the accusations didn't stick. This is the first voyage they've had together since.”

 

Jack reached out his free hand and placed it on the curve of her waist, unable to keep from touching her. 

 

Phryne smiled and ran her hand up his arm. “Well, how awkward.”

 

“Indeed,” said Jack, running his thumb over the smooth skin of her stomach. He heard her breath catch and smiled. “Mr and Mrs Langston aren't really married. She's his mistress.” He ran his hand further up her side to brush the underside of her breast. 

 

“Scandalous,” gasped Phryne. 

 

“Hmm,” agreed Jack. 

 

He cupped her breast and leant closer as she bit her lip. “The Hopes are on their way home from a six month trip to enliven their marriage,” he told her in a low voice. “They go out looking for, er,  _ companionship _ in every port.” 

 

Phryne ran her foot up Jack’s calf, and it was his turn to bite his lip. “Shocking,” she said. He placed a series of gentle kisses along her jaw, and she trailed her hand over his chest. 

 

“What about your friend?” She asked. “Mr Harolds?”

 

Jack snorted, and Phryne leant back to look at him, clearly surprised by the sound. Jack flopped back down onto his back, rolling his eyes. “Larry - he's secretly engaged to a young widow on board,” he said. 

 

Phryne’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

 

Jack nodded. “Yes - well, that's my guess anyway,” he said. “He's far too vocal about how boring he finds her, and anyone can see how besotted he is by the way he looks at her.” He rolled his eyes, the way he'd had to stop himself doing every time he'd caught Larry staring at Mrs Gregor with adoration written all over his face. “And she seeks him out far too regularly for it be coincidence.”

 

Phryne rolled over so she was lying half draped over him, and propped her chin on his chest. “Why all the secrecy?”

 

“I believe her deceased husband’s family are rather controlling,” said Jack, stroking her back. “Trying to keep hold of the money I reckon.”

 

“Poor thing,” said Phryne. “I’ll put her in touch with my lawyer.”

 

Jack smiled softly and tucked her hair behind her ear. “And she'll be another person who will count herself lucky to have met you,” he said. “Just like myself.”

 

Phryne smiled back at him, and kissed his chest. Jack could feel himself starting to stir again at the feel of her body, and he stroked his fingers through her hair, twirling the silky strands around his fingers. 

 

“I can't believe you flew to Cannes,” he said. 

 

Phryne grinned. “Can't you?” She asked. “Melbourne to England and you barely raise an eyebrow, but England to Cannes…”

 

Jack chuckled. “I mean I can't believe you would come so far just for…”

 

His voice trailed off - he couldn't even vocalise it, it seemed so unbelievable to him. 

 

“For you?” She said quietly. Jack swallowed, not trusting himself to say anything else, and Phryne pushed herself up, leaning over him. She was frowning. 

 

“You’ve travelled all the way from Melbourne for me,” she said. 

 

Jack stroked his thumb over her shoulder. “Well I…” Jack stopped himself just in time. He swallowed again. “I would go anywhere.”

 

_ I love you.  _

 

Phryne stared at him for a long moment. “So would I,” she said firmly. She placed her hand over his heart. “You’re not in this alone, Jack.” 

 

Jack’s voice caught in his throat, and he wondered if she could feel his heart stuttering under her palm, because he was sure it did. “Apparently not,” he said eventually. “Though you didn’t have to go to all this trouble to prove it.” 

 

Phryne grinned and leaned down to rest her forehead against his. “Well, you know me,” she said, “I love trouble.” 

 

 

THE END


End file.
